


The Dark Arrow

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Inspired on The Black Arrow, Mishaps and Shenanigans, a bit of humor, mores2sl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1888, Historical Romance: The Black Arrow. Peeta Mellark, orphaned and heir to his family’s estate, land and fortune, befriends and aids strange run-away, John Cattermole. In their adventures Peeta discovers his Guardian, Lord Thread, has pilfered all his wealth and has a sinister scheme to kidnap Miss Katniss Everdeen and force her to marry him to gain access to her inheritance through her marriage to Peeta. With the help of the Dark Daggers Order, Peeta intends on stopping Thread from achieving his nefarious goals and save the newly found love of his life… unless she saves him first.





	1. An Urgent Matter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fanfiction, based off Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games characters and Robert Louis Stevenson’s adventure-romance. I own nothing.
> 
> This piece was first posted on the MS2SL page for their Summer 2018 drive and is now released to general public on this site. I have not perceived any financial gain by publishing it.
> 
> The fic is largely unbetaed, and while on MS2SL has the entire first half of the story, I’m breaking the story into smaller chapters and posting them weekly on here. 
> 
> There’s a beautiful banner designed by the talented Savvylark that accompanies this story. I will post it soon. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little tale, and you can experience as much enjoyment reading it as I did writing it!

Peeta’s horse shone with perspiration under the baking sun of the dying summer. The muscles of the beast strained with each mile eaten by its long, strong legs, but the steed didn’t let up until his master dismounted by jumping off the saddle at mid gallop. Such was the rush.

18 year old Peeta Mellark ran when a few stable hands rushed out to grab the reins of the horse to slow it down and bring it into the comfortable shade of the stable.

“Master Peeta! Welcome back! We weren’t expecting you, young sir.” Called out the butler, a lanky fellow with yellowish teeth and too long a nose for his squished up face.

“I have. The most urgent — unpleasant— matters to share with Lord Thread!” The boy gasped out of breath trying to get around the nosy servant, but the butler was persistent.

“Aye! And was the young master followed?”

Peeta finally stopped to stare at the man obstructing his passage. “Followed?” The boy gave the man a quizzical look. “No, I was certainly not followed. Now, would you please, be so kind and direct me to Lord Thread? I have news that cannot wait.”

The butler looked over Peeta’s shoulder, and out into the shrub-bordered lane leading to the Lord Thread’s summer estate, as if to disprove Peeta. When no unwanted straggler materialized, the man acquiesced and lead the boy into the house’s kitchen.

Meanwhile, Lord Thread sat at a rustic wooden table, heavy with chopped vegetables and sliced meats, cubed cheeses and freshly baked breads, by the kitchens opened door, looking into the inner herb garden.

His teeth sank into a roasted leg of duck, while staring at a shivering kid, dressed in the ill fitted shreds of a peasant boy, sitting in a tight ball in the middle of the kitchen stone floor.

“You hungry?” He grunted.

Gray, piercing eyes glared at him from the floor making him cackle merrily.

“Go at it then!” Thread threw a turnip hitting the kid on the ribs, his stunned reaction caused the man to laugh heartily.

The youth grabbed the vegetable, but instead of devouring, he threw it back, hitting an apple out of a roasted pig’s mouth sitting the table, next to Thread.

“I rather starve to death than help you get rich of off innocent people’s misfortune!” The teen lashed out.

Thread laughed. “Then be my guess! You’ve been nothing but trouble since the moment I found you.”

“You didn’t find me, you bastard! You brought me here against my will!”

“Uh… I particularly remember the words ‘I volunteer’ spilling out of your precocious little mouth!” The Lord countered.

“I did not volunteered. You threaten to take my sister! You left me no choice!” The teen screeched.

“So loud! How about I let you see your sister if you stay quiet for a bit. Now, make yourself useful and pass that goblet of ale.”

The youngster stood up, and meandered as slow as possible to take a brass goblet at the end of another table, but instead of placing the drink in front of the odious man, he splashed the beer all over his face.

“Why you insolent—“

Peeta bursted into the room to the sickening sound of a heavy palm colliding with tender flesh, out of the corner of his eye, Peeta saw a small body drop a foot away into a crumpled pile. His blue eyes focused on that spot and widened for a moment, his feet froze to the floor as a flash of nauseating memories flooded his mind for a fraction of a second before his guardian’s booming laugh snapped him out of the unsettling thoughts.

“Starve if you will, stubborn fool! Finally some quiet. Big mouth on that one, that’s for sure.” Cackled Thread wiping his greasy hand on his trousers. “Peeta, m’boy!” He called jovially seeing the newcomer standing under the kitchen archway. “Come, come! Sit! Eat!”

The boy didn’t hesitate to join his guardian at the table, but his concerned blue eyes kept coming back to the very still form curled up in the floor. He started filling a plate with fruits and cheeses, and finally couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

“What about him?” He asked, eyes trained on the child on the ground. “Who’s that?”

“Eat, lad! Don’t you worry about young Kat— Kah… Cattermole! John Cattermole, there.” The man pointed at the boy sporting an angry red imprint of Thread’s hand on his thin cheek. “That’ll teach the urchin to give his master lip.” Thread laughed again and sank his teeth into his forgotten duck leg once more.

But young mister John’s eyelids fluttered open slowly. Peeta kept quiet about it, contenting himself with pulling a handful of bread rolls into his plate, and stuffing them with sliced meats, cheese and apple chunks.

“So, what news from town, Peeta, my boy?” Asked Thread drinking from a carafe of wine not bothering with serving himself a cup.

Peeta surreptitiously looked at the kid poke his injured cheek with a trembling thin finger. Although the boy was wearing a cap that sat low on his brows obscuring most of his facial features, Peeta noticed the boy froze suddenly and his big gray eyes darted to the table, where they clashed with his. He was taken aback by the intensity of the boy’s stare even obscured by his cap. Still, Peeta said nothing to call attention to the young one, instead, turned to his guardian and blurted out the reason that had brought him there so unexpectedly.

“Friar Cray’s been killed.” He said flatly. “Pierced in the heart by this here dagger.” Peeta produced a sharp looking blade with a handle painted black that clunked heavily on the table.

Thread’s smile fell of his face. He stared at the weapon blankly for a moment before shaking his head. “Are you certain?” The man asked in a voice hard as iron.

“Witnessed it with my own two eyes.” Said Peeta grimly. “I had come over to bring provisions to the parish when it happened.” Peeta hesitated. “We also found gold in the friar’s house.” The boy’s voice tilted almost in question. “A lot of gold. Too much for a man supposedly detached of earthly possessions in favor of serving The Lord.” Peeta’s inquisitive eyes fixated on his guardian’s stony face.

“Never you mind that, son.” Said Thread in a velvety tone that sounded more dangerous than soothing. “I’ll send for the gold right away, for safekeeping.”

Peeta leaned back on his rustic chair, and stared at his guardian deliberately aloof, “That won’t be necessary, my Lord. I saw to it that all the riches got redistributed amongst my people.”

Peeta gave Thread a boyish, guileless, sweet smile.

“You did what?” The man slammed a hand on the surface of the worn table, fuming.

“I’m ten and eight years old now, I figured it was my duty to manage my denizens. So I did. Was I wrong, Lord Thread?” His big blue eyes shone with innocence and his voice betrayed a hint of guilt.

“I— ugh!” Sputtered Lord Thread annoyedly.

When the man closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, Peeta’s eyes flicked back to the boy, John, who was staring, almost judging him. Peeta winked at the youth quickly and tossed him a roll stuffed with ham and shaved turkey.

It took John a moment of confusion. His cheeks turned a violent scarlet he tried to hide but then he caught up with Peeta’s intent to feed him. The young boy scrambled to grab and hide the bread and lay back on the hard floor to pretend he was still passed out.

“Alright!” Exclaimed Thread suddenly, returning his attention to his ward. “I’ll just say this now. Yes, it is your responsibility to look out for the people of your parish. But I still oversee your wealth. Understood?”

“Oh! Of course, my lord. I would never dream of overstepping my boundaries.” His eyes wide with contrition.

“Yes. Well… now you know.” Thread replied sharply. After taking a deep sigh, the man stood up, “I need to see about this dagger business and deal with Cray’s death.” Then turning to his butler, still hovering near the archway to the kitchen, he asked, “Where’s my wench? Tell her I need to speak to her about this unfortunate turn of events.”

“Your wench, my Lord?” The butler repeated at a loss.

“My wife, my wife! The woman that drives me insane with her nagging!” Exploded Thread waving his arms above his head.

“As you wish, my lord.” Answered the servant with a bow.

Thread turned a sly smirk to Peeta, and mock whispered, “The missus may be a pain in the ass, but I keep her around for her delicious meat pies and ample bosom!” The man roared with laughter at his own joke, but Peeta gave a nervous, half hearted chuckle. “I’m telling you, son. Best set of tits in the land. You’ll do anything for a good pair of them, I tell ye!”

Peeta had nothing to say to that. In fact, the comment made him slightly uncomfortable, really, he didn’t want to picture some middle aged woman’s breasts, so he simply smiled weakly at his benefactor and watched him walk towards the doorway. John blushed violently for a moment, but did not move.

Thread stopped a moment to stare down at the boy he’d hit so hard, collapsed on the cold hard floor. Thread smirked with a shake of his head. He lifted his eyes to Peeta then and still smirking said, “I’ve a surprise for you, Peeta, m’boy. But I’m afraid you’ll have to go back to Merchant Town and wait until I send for you to claim it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it very much, son!” Thread cackled his way out of the kitchen after toeing John’s inert hand, leaving Peeta to puzzle over such a curious comment. John felt bile rise up his throat but only dared breath after Thread had gone.

Peeta ate his roll by pulling chunks of it and soaking them into a brown, thick, steaming concoction he held in a mug.

After a moment of silence, Peeta lowered the plate piled high with food on the floor, and slid it towards the kid still huddled in the middle.

“Eat up.” He said plainly. “Lord Thread will come back sooner than you know it, and we will both be in trouble if he sees I’m feeding you.”

John’s grey eyes met his blue ones, and Peeta thought it odd, how big they were and how long the boy’s eyelashes went. But John only stared up at Peeta for a moment before diving into the food. The poor boy ate voraciously every last crumb he could, and then tossed the plate back at Peeta.

“Thank you.” He mumbled to the floor.

Peeta responded with a deep “Mhmm” at the back of his throat. Then, looking at the entryway, he stood and placed the mug near John.

“You can finish my hot chocolate as well. It’ll warm you up.” He nodded encouragingly at the drink.

“Thank you.” Repeated John. This time Peeta couldn’t help but thinking the kid had the thinnest, most strangely pitched voice for a boy. Obliviously John’s man voice hadn’t come in yet. Peeta remembered those days when he still sounded like a baby and then the embarrassing times when his voice would break between the high pitch and low tones until it settled in his current one.

Peeta did not enjoy puberty. Maybe this boy, John, wasn’t having a better time than him.

Peeta went back to his seat after John had inhaled the creamy beverage, and simply slouched on his chair, playing with a hard boiled egg.

Lord Thread slashed back into the kitchens, all smiles and as energetic as a young rooster. The man spoke jovially to his ward about things as inconsequential as the turn of the season, and neither man mentioned the death of the cleric Peeta had come to announce.

Meanwhile John had resume his spot on the floor looking as out as a wickless candle. Thread even toed the boy’s wrist with the tip of his boot at one point, and declared him dead-to-the-world. To which Peeta frowned un-amusedly.

Thread kept talking nonsense for a while, then his wife, a severe looking woman with a pinched expression on her face entered the room, huffing and complaining about short notices and how inconvenient a time to be calling on her husband, since they had that new hooligan to look after, at which she threw a nasty look at poor passed out John sprawled on the floor.

The woman’s whining only prompted Peeta to replied with a cold, “I’m sure Friar Cray also wished his assassination had taken place on a more agreeable time, but alas, he had no choice in the matter.”

Lady Thread glared at the cheeky young man, but before she could spew a scolding answer, her husband’s booming laugh filled the entire place even spilling to the outside gardens and the hallway.

The woman directed her wrath to her husband instead and started bickering about setting examples and discouraging disrespect and whatnot.

While the Threads had their little spat— or more accurately, the mrs. yelled and the husband chuckled humorously— John had slithered his way across the floor up to Peeta.

“Boy!” John whispered urgently pulling on Peeta’s shirttails. “Good boy, please!” He insisted.

Peeta felt mildly offended at the kid for calling him boy, when clearly he was the older of the two, and a proper man at that. John was just a sickly thin urchin of a child!

“What?” He answered in a harsh whisper.

“Could you be so kind and direct me to a road that would lead me to Seamshire?”

“Seamshire?” Peeta retorted confusedly.

John rolled his eyes annoyedly, and then amended, “Southeast from Lake Twelve.”

Peeta frowned for a second and shrugged. “Out the front gate, keep to the right hand path. Then if you dare cut through the woods southbound. Beware of quicksand. Now, grab some food and be gone!” He said shoving another piece of bread into the boy’s bony fingers.

John didn’t linger around slipping out the open door to the gardens when the butler came in to announce two messengers had been dispatched to Lord Thread’s allies, informing everyone of the untimely passing of Friar Cray. After Thread nodded his approval, the butler offered that a horse was ready and waiting for Peeta to ride back home.

“Good!” Exclaimed Lord Thread clapping Peeta on the back. “Better get on before nightfall, son. It won’t do you any good to meander in the woods in the darkness.” Said the man suppressing a shiver.

“Very well,” Peeta pushed off the table ignoring Lady Thread’s nasty glare, “I’ll be anxiously waiting for your summons, my Lord.” He said bowing before grabbing an apple and two pears from a basket of fruits. He was gone in less than five minutes, inspecting his new mount and grabbing an extra blanket just in case, though he hoped to be back in his own estate by nightfall. The marshes could be treacherous late in the evening.

Lady Thread huffed indignant, then glared at her husband that guffawed watching her stare in Peeta’s direction. She sniffled down at him before declaring, “He will make as awful a husband as you, my lord. Mark my words. I just hope this match pays off. I can’t stand anymore of your stray children!”

“Say that again when you’re wearing the latest fashion from London and even Paris, dear!” Thread cackled at his wife’s retrieving form.

The woman made an impolite hand gesture to her husband, causing his laugh to grow even louder. Thread slumped down on his chair, wiping a wayward tear of laughter from his eye when he called his butler’s attention and asked for a drink of ale. After he took a generous gulp of the bitter beverage, he sighed.

“It’s been an interesting day thus far! But it’s high time to get things in motion for young master Peeta’s wedding.” Said Thread admiring his goblet. “See that the girl is groomed and dressed in proper girl attire before the boy returns in three days time. She needs to eat as well.”

“Um… girl, sir?” Asked the butler confused.

“Yes! The girl! Miss Everdeen!” Spat Thread losing his humor.

At the risk of earning his master’s wrath, the butler asked again. “Where may I find miss Everdeen, my lord?”

“Why, right there on the floor—“ Thread finally turned to the last place he’d seen John crumpled on the floor, just to find it free of unconscious teens. “Well, where is she?” Thread screeched coming to his feet.

“Who my lord?”

Turning a dangerous shade of puce, the lord growled, “Katniss Everdeen! She was just laying on the floor right there?”

“My lord, but over there was only a peasant boy?” Said butler wincing as he spoke.

“You moron! That was no boy! That was Katniss Everdeen in drags! I had to put her in those to smuggle her out of Seamshire.”

Thread pulled on his hair desperately and looked under the table, out in the garden, behind the pantry door, he then turned back to his cowering butler, “Don’t just stand there! Find her! Without her I’ll lose my hold on the last piece of Mellark coin! Move!”

The butler was out the door calling for help in a second looking for the girl in peasant boy clothing all over the house. But clever Katniss ‘ _John_ ’ Everdeen, had already put a few miles between her and her captor’s hideaway by then.


	2. Peeta and “Jack”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Warning: Peeta has a disagreeable concept about the opposite sex, and makes unflattering comments about it in this chapter. It won’t stay like this for very long, but we will find out why he thinks this way in the next chapter or so.

Peeta came to a stop when he saw a dead horse halfway on the road, that looked suspiciously familiar.

He dismounted his ride and came to the carcass slowly. The steed’s leg was bent at an awkward angle, revealing a painful break. Objectively speaking, whoever killed his old horse, did it a favor by taking it out of an agonizing misery.

That still didn’t explain what was _his_ horse, the one he rode to Thread’s less than three hours earlier, doing in the marshes, so far from the stable it was supposed to be resting at. He lamented the loss of his animal and cursed whoever careless idiot had taken it out without asking the stable hands for a fully rested mount. _That_ _was_ _just_ _irresponsible_.

Shaking his head in resignation, Peeta moved the heavy carcass out of the path, and did his best to drag it far into the woods, where scavenging creatures could find it and take care of it.

But while he was returning to his new horse, he heard noises. Rustling of leaves in bushes. The neighing of his new horse, and the sound of an aggravated grunt under breath. Peeta cut through the brush and got stunned by what he discovered.

“Why you ungrateful, little _thieve_!” Peeta bellowed angrily.

John Cattermole turned his head towards the voice so fast, he stumbled backwards from the horse's stirrup, too high for his short, thin leg to reach. John’s eyes widened in terror. He started to speak fast cowering backwards blindingly.

“Sweet Peeta! I had no idea this was your mount, I meant no harm—“

“How _dare_ you call me this? Show some respect, Thieve! You meant no harm, but you were stealing some poor soul’s horse? How about the dead one on the middle of the road? Was that your doing as well?”

“Well, I did the poor animal a mercy. His leg was badly broken thanks to a snake scare. There was nothing else I could do to save the beast.” John answered with some sizzle to his attitude.

“So you’re saying, you were going to cost me _two_ horses in _one_ day?” Peeta threw his hands up in the air.

“Two horses?” John snapped.

“Yes, two! The one badly fatigued from earlier runs I had to drag on my own off the path, so it wouldn’t obstruct passage to other travelers, and the one you were about to swipe while I cleaned up your mess!”

“I— I didn’t— I’m sorry, truly!” John babbled.

Peeta took two strides and dipped his head right into John’s face to yell, balling his fist. “You’re sorry?! You killed my horse, I should teach you a lesson!”

John squealed in a most effeminate fashion and brought his arms up to cover his head defensively, shutting his eyes tightly bracing for a blow. In his haste to get away from Peeta, the lad tripped on a root and fell on his rump. “Do as you must, but please… don’t send me back to that monster!”

Peeta’s shoulders sagged and his anger got purged out of his body with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his face in frustration before extending a hand towards John to help him to his feet.

“Come up, I’m not going to turn you in. Though you shouldn’t be so disrespectful to a benefactor.” He said once more presenting his hand to the boy, who simply watched it wearily.

“You won’t?” John asked suspiciously, but grabbed onto the proffered hand and clambered up to his feet.

“No.” Peeta sighed. “Your cheek is still swollen. I think he gave you a cut under the eye when he backhanded you.” Peeta grimaced. “I would never condone a grown man— or woman, for that matter— hitting a defenseless kid such as yourself.”

John just stared at him through narrowed gray eyes. “Right.” He said cautiously.

Peeta smiled sadly. “John, right?” He offered his hand again, this time to shake the other youth.

But John scowled. “John was my father’s name.” The boy sounded bitter for some reason.

“Is your father dead?” Asked Peeta, still holding his hand out for the other boy.

John nodded mutely, his thin face turning sour.

“So is my father.” Peeta’s voice softened. “That’s how Lord Thread came to be my guardian. Is that why you were in Thread’s house? Are you a new ward of his? He gets new ones every so often, but they never stay under his care long.”

John finally took Peeta’s hand and shook. The boy’s hand was clammy, and thin, and completely dwarfed in Peeta’s big, calloused one. But John’s expression just turned angry.

“I already have a guardian. His name is Haymitch Abernathy. That’s who I’m trying to get to. Thread just snatched me from my home and dragged me to this place for his own gain.”

Peeta’s emotions started to boil. In the last few hours, he had seen, heard and learned many secrets about Lord Thread and his associates, starting with the deceased Friar Cray, who up until that morning, Peeta had considered an honest, godly friend.

What Peeta hadn’t told his guardian, was how fidgety the Friar had been when Peeta arrived to the chapel at the first hours of dawn. How the old man had shiver and shake, spilling tea on his table, or how he babbled apologies about Sir Bran Mellark and his untimely death, and that of his brothers and mother. The Friar hinted at Lord Thread’s involvement in the not so accidental demise of the Mellark family, leaving wee little Peeta of 11 years of age, sole heir to his families riches. Add to that the discovery of some journals Peeta hid to read later, that at first glance detailed how Cray had been siphoning gold from the Parrish on Thread’s behalf, and Peeta had a big conundrum to solve in his hands: _who_ _to_ _trust_?

Hearing yet another accusation, this time so open and direct against the man that had taken him in and raised him since adolescence, was a bit too much, too painful.

Before he could reason his reaction away, Peeta lashed out. “So you’re a thief, an ingrate and a lier I see, John!”

“A lier?” The boy retorted indignantly, but then stopped abruptly, turning pink all over his olive tone skin. “I’m no ingrate either! And the only reason I took the horse, was because I needed it. I’m not sure how far away from home I am, or how perilous the roads are!” There was a fire in John’s eyes that took Peeta aback.

“Well, you still cost me a good horse… and all my effort clearing its carcass off the path.”

John snorted. “How was I supposed to drag a 400 pound animal several yards away? Not all of us are built like an ox!” He tossed angrily, crossing his arms over his chest while gesturing at Peeta from head to boots with his free hand. “At least I’m not blindly defending a kidnapper and a murderer.”

“You show some respect for Lord Thread!”

“The man is vile! And if you think me a liar, is because he started the pattern.”

“You know what, John? Good luck getting out of this maze! Have a good hike back to Seamshire or whatever township you came from!”

Peeta made to mount the mare he was given at Thread’s, but in their bickering the two youth had shifted off the path ever so slightly, until they were a few yards deep in the treacherous marshes.

With horror, Peeta realized his mistake. His foot started sinking. Peeta had gone and stepped right into quicksand. Panicking, he started yanking on his leg, but the sand simply slurped his limb deeper and before he knew it, both his legs were knee high into the shifting sand.

“Stop moving!” Commanded John at once.

Peeta’s frantic eyes found the boy staring at him resolutely. But alas, he didn’t stop pulling and kicking, disturbing the surface and being sucked in deeper.

“Peeta, stop!” Yelled John again more firmly. Then looking around, the youngster leaped to grab a fallen dead branch that looked sturdy enough. “Hold on to this!” Said the boy bringing the limb to Peeta.

“No!” Peeta screeched. “I’m built like an ox, remember? You’ll fall right into the pit!”

John rolled his eyes. “I will not! But if you don’t want to grab onto the stick, then you have to calm down. You’re wasting energy by flailing.” John said trying to soften his voice.

“Easy for you to say!” Peeta countered, but for once stopped fighting against the thick mass.

Not taking the bait, John simply instructed, “Take deep breaths, Peeta. We have to redistribute and expand your body weight.”

“How is that gonna help?”

“Easy! Do you know how to swim?”

“How is that relevant to my current condition?”

“You are not very familiar with marshes and the woods are you?” Tossed John sardonically at the other boy, while laying down a few other branches by Peeta.

“And you are?” Peeta snapped, wiggling again.

“Thanks to my father. Yes! Now stop your fidgeting and listen.” John kneeled by the edge of the pit. “Quicksand is basically pasty water. If you lay on your back and shift you center of gravity, you’ll become as buoyant as if you were floating on a placid lake. Then, you can unstick your legs one at a time and crawl out of the mess.”

Peeta glared at John unconvinced, but the boy sounded collected and soothing during his far fetched explanation, Peeta figured he had nothing to lose.

“Jack, I swear on my father’s grave, if you try to trick me… so help me…”

“What?” John drawled half amused and half annoyed.

“Give me a minute. I’ll come up with something!”

“Just lay down!”

Finally, Peeta followed all of John’s directions, and after a moment, both his legs were free.

“Crawl towards me.” John called.

“Excuse me? I still have my dignity!” Painfully slowly at first, Peeta started shifting on his back sideways, but realized he was just moving his body weight out of balance. Biting down on his lip, he tucked his arms close to his body and brought his legs together, and rolled towards the sticks John had laid out for him to grab onto.

John took a handful of Peeta’s sleeve and supple leather vest, and helped him to solid ground. The boys sat side by side catching their breath for a moment. They shared a silent look full of disbelief they got over their ordeal, but then a most terrifying thing happened.

Horseman galloping through the still path shouting and spurring on their mounts. Calling out “John Cattermole” at the top of their lungs.

Peeta’s new horse neighed restlessly, giving their position away.

“Hide!” Hissed Peeta at the terrified boy. “Now!”

John didn’t wait for another prompting. He was on his knees crawling into a bush just as the detail stopped a few feet away from where Peeta still sat on the ground.

“Hello! Who’s there?” A man popped his head between the overgrown hedge separating the path from the woods. Peeta was just coming to a stand, dusting his trousers from dirt. “Master Peeta?” Asked the man surprised.

“Can a fellow relieve his bowels in peace?” Asked Peeta coldly.

The man looked disturbed and stepped back, allowing Peeta passage. “My apologies, sir. We are in pursuit of Lord Thread’s fugitive, a boy by the name of John Cattermole. Have you seen him?”

“Peasant boy in tatters?” Asked Peeta scratching his stubbled chin. “Last time I saw him, the poor fellow was laid out cold on the floor of the kitchen.” He shrugged, making a show of looking for something in the bag of his saddle. A spade. Presumably for his bodily endeavors. Then asked nonchalantly, “What was the kid’s offense?”

“We are not at liberty to discuss.” Said the man.

“Huh. Or maybe it is that you don’t know.” Countered Peeta cheekily. “That’s alright, my good man! Keep up the good work. If I happen to encounter the young lad, I’ll deliver him myself! Now… if you excuse me. I have unfinished business back in the marsh.”

“Oh! Of course!” The whole company made some uncomfortable noises of understanding, and got ready to continue on their search. Then the leader, spoke up, “Master Peeta?” Peeta turned his ashy blonde head to the man expectantly. “Be careful out there. There are quicksand banks all over the place.”

Peeta narrowed his eyes at the man that rapidly turned away. “Don’t you say!” He drawled darkly. “Thank you! I will be observant. Don’t want to fall into one of those death traps.” He grunted sarcastically.

Once back on the other side of the hedges, Peeta call-whispered. “Jack! Where are you? The coast is clear!”

After a moment, John’s gray eyes shone from a bush, and after looking around, he slid out from his hiding spot.

“Are they gone?” He asked so low, Peeta had to stretch his neck to get his ears closer. Then he looked quizzically at the spade in the older boy’s hand and asked, “What’s that for?”

Peeta frowned and his cheeks burned slightly. “I thought you were familiar with the woods. What do you think people use one of this for?”

Understanding crossed John’s face, before a wry smile took over. Peeta felt oddly in the pit of his stomach, looking at the boy’s amused expression.

“The men are gone now. But they’re looking for you, _Jack_. Who knows how many of them are out there. Better if you stick with me and come to my place to lay low until the search parties are called off. We will have to get off the main roads, and cut through the forest.”

“Oh, sweet Peeta. Such a generous offer I must decline. I need to return home to my sister. She’s likely worried sick by my absence now.”

Peeta made an aggravated noise at the back of his throat. “Why do you insist on calling me ‘sweet’?”

“Whatever is wrong with it?” John asked.

“That’s what a girl would say. We are men!” Then he looked at the scrawny boy from head to toe, noting how the youngster flushed over his olive skin and averted his mortified eyes. “Then again… _I’m_ a man and you’re a _boy_.” He thought for a moment, “How old are you anyway?”

John’s eyes flashed back to Peeta’s, “Ten and six.” He said in a small voice.

“Sixteen? Really? I thought for sure you’d be Twelve. You’re so tiny!”

Though there was no malice in Peeta’s voice, John gave him a dirty glare. “I’m just fine the way I am, thank you very much!” He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the ground. “Plus, what’s so wrong with girls and so great about being ‘men’?” The sarcasm dripped thickly from his voice.

Peeta snorted. “Girls are a waste of time. They’re vain, self involved, weak and a nuisance.” He paused to scowl at the ground. “Some of them are just gross, and when they grow up, the nag, complain and throw fits. Sometimes, the girls become mothers and smack their children for no good apparent reason.”

John’s skeptic eyes roved over Peeta’s contorted face. “I doubt you’ve met very many nice girls.” The youth stated sadly.

“Oh, I’ve met nice girls. Or better say, nice to look at.”

“So you share your guardian’s colorful opinion about breasts? You don’t like girls but have noticed their attributes?” John asked contemptuously.

Again, Peeta made a derisive noise through his nose. “I’ve noticed girls and their shapes, alright. I’ve noticed all of them in fact, none has made an impression thus far. I don’t care much for girls and what they’re expected to offer.”

“Then you are in for a big surprise, good sir!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your guardian has arranged a wedding for you. Did you know?” At Peeta’s incredulous expression, John continued in a needling tone. “Your future wife, Katniss Everdeen, is the heiress of a very profitable expansion of land, with its own coal mine and endless resources. She won’t come into claim of her inheritance until she weds, and then her husband will own the rights to all her affairs.”

“Well…” Peeta sputtered for a second. “Lord Thread is looking out for me and my future.” He nodded as if to reassure himself. “Like a good guardian should!”

“So you are fine with this arrangement? Marrying a girl you’ve never even met before? How about not caring for girls and what they’re expected to offer?” The incredulity in John’s voice was palpable.

“If Lord Thread says it’s the best for me, then it is.”

“He _kidnaped_ your bride!” John screamed throwing his arms into the air. “He’s forging documents that name himself as her guardian, so he can control both of your assets! He’s not looking out for your future. He’s trying to steal your wife’s riches because he’s depleted yours already! He doesn’t have your best interests at heart, he wants your purse strings! Aren’t you concerned at that?”

“What? How do you even know this? You’re lying!”

“I am not! Turns out I’m very good at playing opossum, and people tend to run their mouths when they think their prisoners are passed out.” The boy said smugly.

“You can’t prove any of this accusations?”

“Oh, Peeta…” John’s voice became soft, soothing. “I’ve heard so many things about you. You need to stop being so gullible, sweet friend.”

“I’m not your friend and I’m not _sweet_!”

“No? Then why have you been so kind to me?” John’s voice was… _tender_ , as he asked the question. His eyes softened and held Peeta’s blue rings of confusion until the latter looked again.

“You can’t prove it.” Peeta said weakly.

“Deliver me to my own guardian, then you’ll see the truth.” Proposed the younger boy.

Peeta sighed, and nodded his assent. “I’ll take you home. Just because you helped me get out of the quicksand.”

John bounced happily at first, but then scowled at Peeta’s words. “That was just repayment for the food and the directions to get out of Thread’s compound. We don’t owe each other anything but the truth. And I intend on telling you the whole truth as soon as I’m safely home.”

“And I promised I was going to take you home, so what are you gonna do about it?”

The two boys stared each other down stubbornly.

“Come on then!” John broke down first, pulling on Peeta’s sleeve. “We have to do something about your horse. She’s not nearly as strong as the dead one.”

Peeta gritted through his clenched teeth. “I _know_ , Jack. Troyan was my favorite horse, and now is worm food thanks to you.”

“Then I’ll get you a new horse as soon as we are out of this place!” John hissed back.

“I don’t want a new horse. I just want you to apologize for killing my mount!”

“I already did!”

“No, you apologized for trying to steal the mare.”

“Same difference! And who names their horse _Troyan_?”

“Who names—?” Peeta sputtered aghast as if deeply offended. “Is there a more appropriate name for a horse than Troyan? Is genius, I tell you!”

”It’s a bit on the nose...” John chuckled at his own comment. “Equine nose, that is.”

”And you consider yourself witty? I hope you’re better at math than at jesting. You’ll starve to death otherwise.”

The two boys bickered while retrieving the mare from the main road, but they still carried on with their animate ribbing as they snaked the marshes in the vague direction of John’s home, until they reached a ravine that made them backtrack and take a different route. After passing the same stump next to a boulder, John snorted.

“You have something to say, Jack?”

“We’re lost.” John replied flatly.

“We aren’t.”

John chuckled derisively.

“Is there something funny you’d like to share, Jack? Because I sure like a laugh myself!” Peeta snapped.

John took the reigns of the mare and stopped in the middle of a copse of tall trees. “We’re lost!” He hissed flailing his arms in the air. “We’ve gone in circles. We saw that stump back there about twenty minutes ago. And now, we’ve lost precious sunlight!”

“Then what do you suggest then, all infallible John Cattermole?” Peeta mocked moodily with a fake bow.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Don’t call you your name?” Peeta deadpanned.

“I… rather you stick with _Jack_ , thank you.” The uncertainty in his voice was hard to ignore, but Peeta did his best to not bring attention to it and embarrass his new— reluctant— friend further.

“Suit yourself. Let’s head this way. I’m a great navigator, I’m sure the road’s ahead.”

“Or we can just try to figure out where we are first…” John cajoled with a roll of his gray eyes.

“What do you suggest, Jack? Should we ask directions? And pray tell me, who should we ask? Maybe the boulder yonder? Or perhaps that pesky woodpecker giving me this ungodly migraine?” Peeta’s fingers waved in the air for effect.

Not rising to the bait and falling into a petty squabble, John replied evenly, “Look,” He studied the forest with squinting eyes, “How about I climb that tree over there?” He pointed at a large, leafy tree a few feet east from them. “Once I get to the top, I’ll be able to see the land around and get our bearings. It will help us find the road much easier than just traipsing around the marshes.”

“I don’t know Jack. What if you fall?” Posed Peeta looking at the tree in question skeptically.

John laughed, and oddly melodic laugh and shook his head. “I’ll be well. I used to climb trees all the time during hunting trips with my father.” The smile slipped off his face for a moment, “I’ll just need a boost to reach the lower branches, since I cannot reach them on my own.”

The boy looked at Peeta expectantly until the latter huffed his consent.

In a moment, both boys were standing at the foot of the tall, thick tree trunk, and Peeta laced his fingers together, forming a stirrup of sorts with his hands; John held onto one of Peeta’s strong, muscular shoulders, and pulled himself up like a growing weed.

“I’m still not high enough!” John called reaching a hand to the lowest branch,  merely brushing it with the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Peeta quipped. “Fine. Here!” Then he pushed his companion upwards easily. “Jack, we need to put more muscle and weight on you, man! You weight next to nothing. I’ve lifted sacks of flour and grains heavier than you.”

“Very funny! But I’ll say it again,” he finally grasped his intended limb, and heaved himself up. “We can’t all be built as oxen. I wouldn’t be able to climb this tree if I was as big as you, and we’ve most likely still be lost in this place.”

“Just get on with it and don’t break your neck on your way down, will you?” Peeta said impatiently.

It took John just a few minutes to find a path up the tree trunk, and soon he was looking over the landscape below.

“Peeta, I think I can see the main road! It’s a few yards to the west!” John informed happily. “It seems like it splits into a five prong fork.”

“Very good, Jack! At last some good news! There should be a sign leading to Lake Twelve at the fork, and from there, you should be able to gain your bearings enough to lead us to your home and guardian!”

“That is all very well and good…” John trailed off already descending the tree.

“But?” Prompted Peeta shielding his eyes with the hand not holding on to his mount’s reigns.

“It’ll be dark soon.” Attested John smartly.

“Better find a clear to camp.” Suggested Peeta scanning the horizon.

John nodded, just a few feet shy of the ground, but his foot slipped out of his ill fitting shoe, and before he knew what was happening, he saw the ground rush at him.

“Jack!” Peeta yelled hopping forward, arms stretched out.

There was a sickening sounding thump, followed by a muffled “oomf”, and not a second later the unmistakable groan of a breaking branch. It all happened too fast.

John’s air got knocked out of him when a thin branch caught him ‘round the stomach, but the force of impact was such, the branch broke under pressure and the poor boy careened down the trunk still hugging the branch to his middle.

Peeta caught John in his arms— branch and all— but he was a fool to think he was just going to step in and save the day so easily. Peeta went down as well as soon as his friend hit his arms and then, both of them laid sprawled on the hard, rocky ground, wheezing for air.

Peeta recovered faster. As gently as he could, he shoved John off him, and then tried to help his young companion, but the boy was still desperately gasping and sobbing for air with his spindly arms wrapped around the stupid broken branch.

“Jack, it’s alright. Jack, you’re alright. Just— just, lay on your side. I’ll help you lift your arms so air can come deeply into your lungs. It’s the best thing you can do when there’s not air in you tummy.”

John wasn’t really listening, but at one point he realized Peeta was trying to help, so he let him. Slowly, Peeta took John’s wrists and pried the branch from his arms. Discarding the stick to the side, he made his friend lay on his side with both arms extended in front of him. Then, Peeta crouched behind John and started vigorously rubbing on his back, between the shoulder blades, until the boy calmed down enough to actually take choppy breaths in.

It took a few minutes, but for John felt like ages, after the frantic heaving for breath, to finally take a gulp of air into his lungs and exhale it until he had to inhale greedily once more. John’s eyes ached, and his throat felt raw and tired. He had a terrible headache and his stomach hurt extremely bad.

“Let me check you for injuries.” Peeta offered trying to lift the shirttails of his friend’s raggedy clothes.

But John screeched out loudly, rolling away from Peeta as fast as he could. There was an unsettling fear in John’s eyes that stayed Peeta’s hand.

“I’m just trying to help you.” He said in a placating tone, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do that.” He beseeched.

John simply shook his head, eyes ready to roll out of orbit. “No.” He rasped. “I’m alright.”

Peeta studied his friend’s face steadily for a moment, and a shadow of sadness passed his eyes before assenting his understanding.

“As you wish, Jack.” Taking a deep breath, he added. “Let’s stay here the rest of the day. The horse needs resting.” He gestured vaguely to the mare.

John had the sinking feeling Peeta wasn’t being completely honest about wanting to stay because of the mare, but he was in pain all over, and grateful for the respite, decided that a long rest would replenish his energy and heal his aches, so he simply nodded and sat down still holding his side.

Before long, John was blissfully asleep, and Peeta watched him for a moment. His friend look so frail and small in sleep, so much more than when he was awake, his chest titghtened.

With a sad shake of his head, Peeta muttered to a blade of grass at his foot. “I’m sorry, Jack. Nobody will terrorize you like Lord Thread has once you’re home, with your own. I promise you on my honor, I’ll deliver you to your family unharmed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the time period in which The Black Arrow is set, it was considered improper/sinful for women to dress in pants, as men did. The only woman that semi got away with it was Joan of Arc, and even her got betrayed by the very people she defended, but that’s another story. Anywho, there’s a part in the source material where the “Katniss” character (Joanna Seedly) refuses to eat when she’s offered food by her captor. She says she’s fasting in order to ask God forgiveness for being dresssed as a boy, even though she was forced into the clothes without her consent.
> 
> I decided not to make it that bad for K in this fic. She’s got enough on her plate as it is to also worry about saving her eternal soul because of her clothing.
> 
> Another change from the source material comes in that “Jack” (I think it’s safe to assume everybody knows by now who “Jack”/John Cattermole really is) is not a typical damsel in distress. She’s her own woodsy self and knows her survival tactics by heart. All the info on how to get out of quicksand is accurate and practical information, by the way... in case you were wondering.
> 
> I hope everyone is enjoying this tale so far.


	3. Legitimate Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has not been betaed.
> 
> Special thanks to the talented Savvylark for amezing banner she made for this story. You’re the best Savvy!

The sky was inky dark above, but the stars and the moon were so bright in the firmament, it was almost like seeing through tinted spectacles. John took a moment to catalogue all the aches he felt in his body, before moving his cramped legs from under himself.

John estimated it was just past midnight, judging by the moons position. The young fellow felt relieved at the thought that he could go back to sleep for a few more hours before dawn.

“How are you feeling?” Peeta asked in a raspy voice from disuse, startling John.

“I’m alright.” John offered cautiously, sitting up gingerly.

Peeta was sitting under a nearby tree with his back against the sturdy trunk and his knees pulled up in front of himself. A book of some sort propped on his thighs and a long piece of charcoal on his moving hand. He was scribbling something, or so John thought.

“How long have I been out?” John asked stretching his neck back and forth to get rid of a painful crick.

“A handful of hours.” Peeta frowned down at his book before putting it aside. “When was the last time you actually slept, Jack? I moved us to a different place and you never even winced while I carried you to the horse, nor when I got you off it.” Peeta’s eyes were inquisitive, and perhaps a little anxious, but there was no accusation in his tone that John could perceive.

The younger boy looked down to his resting place, and realized there was a blanket rolled up where his head had laid. Pulling his own knees flushed to his chest, he rested his cheek to one of his knees.

“I’m not sure.” He said exhausted. “I get nightmares a lot. The worst part is I’ve been unconscious a lot the past few days, but it hasn’t been restful. Certainly not restaurative.”

“You must’ve been so scared.” Peeta told his companion with an edge of sadness and regret in his voice.

John shrugged. “I haven’t felt very safe since father died.” Then under his breath, he sighed “Until now.” His eyes fluttered away from Peeta’s shyly.

Not quite understanding either his companion’s words or sentiments, Peeta asked, “Did Thread mistreat you much?” His voice was distant and his blue eyes unfocused.

“Not really. He needs me unspoiled, so he tried to keep me out of harm's way for the most part.”

“He gave you that cut and bruise under your eye.” Peeta pointed at the spot in question with his charcoal.

“Oh…” John touched his injured cheekbone softly. “I forgot you saw that.” He replied hollowly.

Peeta grunted in assent.

“Is that why you helped me run off?” John asked peering up expectantly.

Peeta nodded. After a long silent pause, he took a deep breath and started talking in low, halting syllables. “My mother was a very strict woman. She had this set of rules and expectations we all had to comply with, and if we didn’t measure up we’d hear of it from her sharp, cutting tongue. Even father would get it... the criticisms. See, my mother was already an old maid when my father was made to marry her.

“I’m not sure what brought about their mismatch union, but he tried real hard to keep his family fed and healthy... although I could tell there was no romantic love between my parents. In the later years, father was a lot away, fighting battles with allies or on adventures. I guess mother felt neglected. I mean, she certainly was not shy about complain about it. She wasn’t a very sweet mother either. With the passing of time, she got increasingly more impatient, and her hands quicker to strike.

“The last time I saw her, she screamed at me for dropping a heavy bucket of slop a foot short of the pigs’ trough.” Peeta frowned and stared at his hands pursing his lips. “The beasts didn’t care. I think they actually liked it that way judging by how fast the splatter of feed disappeared under the mob of swines. Yet, my mother scoffed me in the back of the head before taking my ear and shaking my whole body as if I was a blade of grass.

“I hated her so much then. It hadn’t been my fault. The bucket was full to the brim and so very heavy, but she didn’t care. She called me awful names and said I was as stupid as I was useless.” He turned his angry, tortured eyes to his friend then. “Hearing your own mother spew that kind of vile so often, does irreparable damage to a person, you know.” Peeta shook his head sadly and looked away. “I wished she would just… I don’t know, up and go and leave us all the hell alone. But then one day, I wasn’t at home and the unthinkable happened.”

Peeta snuff out some air, set his jaw in shard line. “My whole life was turned upside down. My family was suddenly gone and I was all alone in this world. At first I would cry and cry and call out for them to come back. And then, Lord Thread was there taking care of me. The pain started to lessen little by little, one day at a time. But one thing was stark clear from the very beginning: I missed my papa and brothers so much it still feels like a bad dream, but all I could feel for the loss of my mother was bitter contempt for the longest time.

“I’ve forgiven her since. But only because I know nothing good will come from holding this grudge. Is not like she can do anything to atone for the ways she wronged me. All I know is that I can never condone a grown person abusing their size and strength by physically bullying a child or weaker person.” Peeta gave John look, and lowered his voice to something more teasing, yet truthful. “No offense Jack, but we seriously need to toughen you up, mate. Nobody should ever get away with hitting you or treating  you the way Thread did.”

Peeta smiled sadly. His looked exhausted.

John studied his companion a long moment, then broke the silence. “You mean it?”

“What?” Peeta asked sliding down the trunk of his tree into a more prone position, finally ready to sleep.

“That you’ll help me with self defense skills?”

“Aye.” Peeta yawned widely, stretching his arms and legs and scratching his stomach.

“Why?” John couldn’t let it go just yet.

“Why? Because I hated that you got mistreated, and I didn’t even know you then. Now that you’re my friend…” another long yawn, then reaching for a spare blanket. “I just can’t let people take advantage of your size. You can actually use it for your advantage against attackers, you know. You could become slippery and cunning. I’ve seen enough of your wit to know you could do great things given the proper techniques.”

Peeta closed his eyes seemingly ready to succumb to sleep, but John spoke again.

“We’re friends?” He asked eagerly. “Legitimate friends?”

Peeta cracked open one bloodshot blue eye and peered at his friend from his place. “Ain’t that obvious? I thought it was obvious.”

The younger boy straighten out quickly and gave a sharp nod, “Yes! Of course. I was just making sure we were both alright on the friendship thing.”

Peeta shook his head ruefully, smirking crookedly. “You’re funny, Jack. Go back to sleep, mate. We have training tomorrow at first light.”

“Training? So, you’ll teach me right away?” The eagerness was palpable in the kid’s voice even with both of Peeta’s eyes closed.

“Go to sleep, Jack. Before I change my mind!” The older boy threatened.

Not wanting to spoil his chances, John dropped back down into his little nest and squeezed his eyes shut, but after a minute of silence. He rose his head to whisper in admiration.

“You’re a good man, Peeta Mellark. Miss Katniss would be lucky to have you as her husband.”

Peeta lifted his head too and the two  friends stared at each other under the bright moonlight.

“Good night… _friend_.” John said at last with sweet smile on his lips, dropping his head onto his rolled up blanket.

Peeta nodded somewhat confused at his friend’s reaction, but shrugged it off, “Same wise, Jack.” 

Peeta couldn’t help to think Jack was a tad quirky for a boy, but he liked him just the same.

 

* * *

 

 

It was an unseasonably hot day, the sun baked the ground below, resulting in a  oppressive weather for traveling.

Peeta’s feet ached and he could feel the thin, wasted sole of his boots melt with heat of the ground. His normally sunny mood was muddy at best. He glared at John, sat up onto the mount while he had to drag his tired, baking feet through yet another pebbly, sweltering hill.

Peeta didn’t outright blamed the other boy for their circumstances, it really wasn’t his fault he was such a weakling, and clearly his elders failed to teach him basic fighting techniques, and whatever John lacked in brawn he more than compensated in brains and quick, reactionary reflexes, but still... he couldn’t help to be grouchy either, that he had to walk in that heat while the other boy was riding his blasted horse.

Meanwhile, John rode the mare rigidly, with wary eyes darting everywhere at once nervously. He had the good sense of looking apologetic and chagrined every time his eyes happened to meet Peeta’s. But he couldn’t have prevented the situation anymore than his companion could avoid the walking.

That morning, after waking up and busying themselves with breakfast preparations, John couldn’t hide his eagerness and restless energy, waiting for his training to begin.

At first, Peeta found it oddly endearing of his friend, and also sad, that the younger boy never had a father or benefactor that showed him the ropes of sword fight, or even boxing, things the older boy considered indispensable for a gentleman and necessary for a knight, if ever that was a path any fellow could aspire to, and golly, did Peeta aspired for a knighthood.

Peeta started with a few simple moves. Nothing strenuous and easy enough to master quickly: feet positioning, straighten back, shoulder squaring, the right amount of pressure when making a fist, punching with knuckles, etc.

John was a brilliant, fast learner and absorbed concepts and ideas like a dry sponge to spilled water. Then they moved up to the actual hand-to-hand combat, and Peeta had no idea how delicate and dainty his friend really was until he pushed him a bit too hard, causing the boy to land on his ass awkwardly.

“Let’s change tactics,” Peeta said with a quizzical look when it was clear John fought hard to suppress his tears like a man, and begged his friend to continue the lesson. “Let’s work on defense instead of offense.”

They moved on to _avoiding_ attacks, which John faired better on, but then Peeta upped the pressure and started coming at John faster and tougher; after a shove and a well placed headlock, John broke by biting Peeta’s wrist and stomping on his toes, the smaller boy slipped and fell to the ground, tripping over an unearthed tree root twisting his foot in the process. That time John couldn’t stop the painful cry that ripped through his throat. Actual tears sprung to his disconsolated gray eyes.

It became immediately apparent, that there was something wrong with the younger boy’s foot when he couldn’t put the slightest amount of weight on it.

Peeta demanded to look over John’s injured foot, but of course a heated argument ensued, resulting on Peeta simply pushing the scrawny youngster backwards on a fallen log, yanking off John’s ill-fitted shoe and locating the bruise on the kid’s heel.

Blessedly the foot wasn’t fractured, it was just painful to walk on.

Not being anywhere near a trained healer, Peeta had nothing else he could say or recommend for his friend’s recovery, other than offering to let him ride the mare.

Everything would’ve been just fine, except the boys decided to take the main road again and continue their journey in the open path because it was easier on their feet. The trip would had only taken a few hours at best to Seamshire, and John’s safety, but odds weren’t in their favor. Almost immediately, Peeta and John ran into a group of Thread sympathizers still roaming the road.

Peeta cursed under his breath in annoyance. “How is it they’ve come out all this way? This isn’t even our territory!” He huffed.

John’s eyes were dramatically round, staring out from behind the bushes they’d hidden to spy on their chasers. Feeling eyes on him, he slowly turned away from the road to find Peeta’s impossibly blue, narrowed eyes, regarding him with a dash of suspicion.

“Why are you so valuable to Thread?” He asked lowly.

“I— uh, um… you see—“

Suddenly one of the horsemen trotting up the path called for the rest of the group.

“Hush!” Peeta hissed slamming his hand roughly over John’s mouth to keep him from speaking.

The man called out, “There’s some smoke coming from that direction!”

The rest of the men got into excited murmuring and bringing mounts around, since indeed, there was a timid column of smoke rising to the sky in the opposite direction to Peeta and John. In no time the whole searching party was running back to the source of the smoke, giving the boys a sorely needed respite.

Peeta still covered John’s mouth for a few seconds until he couldn’t hear the neighing and clapping of hooves in the distance.

“They’ve gone.” Peeta whispered dropping his hand from his friend’s face. “Let’s get moving. We’ve lingered to long here.”

Instead of taking the road as they had planned, the boys turned back to the marshes, now becoming leafier and a bit less scary. There was one problem they had not foreseen: the terrain was going to oppose them at every step.

By mid afternoon, they’ve come to a stream and stopped for a rest. John tried putting weight on his foot and was glad to find that he was actually able to waddle on it. Peeta glared a little, but soon he had taken out that book John had seen him scribbling on the previous night, and settled on a rock by the stream to continue his work.

John’s curiosity was piqued.

As nonchalantly as he could, he approached his friend, and settled down on the same rock, to whittle a stick, just a bit too close to Peeta.

“Jack, stop breathing down my neck.” Peeta complaint.

“I’m not doing such a thing!” John huffed out indignantly.

“Then explain to me, why are our noses almost touching? Go on, do tell.” He leaned forward to prove his point but his friend’s reaction was to freeze up in place, causing them to bump noses together.

Both of them stared each other, nose to nose, awkwardly for one whole startled second, until John blinked.

“There's such a thing as personal space, you know.” Peeta said hastily pulling away.

They avoided looking at each other for a whole 3 seconds, which was a good thing, since John’s burning cheeks had a tiny moment to cool down and his skin returned to his smooth olive tone.

“I just wanted to see what were you doing, since you’ve been giving me the silent treatment all day long.” John glared sideways at Peeta.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment, Jack. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are too! I’ve asked you two questions in the last 30 minutes, and both have gone unanswered. Do you know how hard it is for me to sustain a conversation, let alone start it?” John scowled crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. “Very! In case you were wondering. I’m not very good at saying something, and if you were my friend, you’d know that by now.” There was an edge of hurt in the boy’s voice.

Not wanting to back down just yet, Peeta responded under his breath. “Could’ve fool me.”

“What was that?”

“I said: could. Have. Fool. Me!” Peeta gestured vaguely with his hand above his head. “You’ve been chattering up a storm ever since we sat down!”

John’s mouth dropped open for a moment, fishing for the right words to toss back in his defense. “So you have been purposefully ignoring me?” He finally hissed.

“No,” Peeta dragged out in exasperation. “I’m just saying that one man can use a moment of quiet to sketch in peace. That’s all. And you are doing pretty well at keeping this argument going, which means you have plenty to nag about.”

“I do not nag!”

“If you say so!”

“I do say so!”

“Suit yourself then!”

“Fine!” John stood up like a tornado, and stomped away to tend to the mare.

After a while of pointedly ignoring one another, the teenagers tempers had a chance to cool off. It was good to have time to sit alone and deflate tensions.

John’s stomach started to groan embarrassingly loud, prompting Peeta to lift his eyes from his sketch and stared at his friend, who was brushing a careful hand down the horse’s recently de-saddled back, stubbornly keeping his eyes trained on his task.

Peeta put his book aside and stretched his limbs before standing.

“Let’s put some food I you, Jack.” He said softly.

John snorted in response. “I’m not hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach gurgling, Jack. Stop being difficult.”

“Then you stop being an ass!” He responded haughtily over his shoulder.

“Fine!” Peeta came over and pulled the younger boy away from the horse and turned him around so they were face to face. “Look, I apologize for being rude to you earlier—“

“ _Nasty_ is a more accurate description.”

Peeta rubbed his face with both hands and pinched the bridge of his nose before inhaling deeply. Without speaking another word, he just pulled some fruit out of the side saddle bag and offered John a pear.

“I’m sorry, Jack. Please, don’t be sour. I know I shouldn’t have lost patience for something you have no control over. And if you want to see my sketchbook after we eat, you’re welcome to take a peek.” He gave his friend a tight smile, that only got a small grunt in response.

A second later, John’s stomach growled again and Peeta presented his open hand with the glistening pear sitting in the middle of his palm. John snatched the fruit up and gave it a vicious bite while glaring at the older boy.

“I accept your apology.” John said after swallowing his bite. “But I still think you’re an ass.”

Peeta smirked. “Fair enough.”

The two sat side by side on the boulder Peeta had occupied earlier, munching on their respective snacks. It was an easy, companionable silence, only disturbed by the sounds of the forest. Suddenly, a bird flew across their field of vision, and John slapped Peeta’s shoulder enthusiastically, almost choking on his food.

“Mockingjay!” He coughed up his half chewed bite.

“Yeah… not the flashiest of birds if you ask me.” Peeta shrugged paying little mind to the black and white feathered songbird.

“It’s the most amazing one!” John said widening his eyes. “Watch this!” He whispered excitedly.

John sat straight up and gave a four note whistle. The ditty got the Mockinjay’s attention. John whistled again and the bird perched on a branch a stone throws away, cocking it’s black crested head to the side. John whistled the same melody one more time and no sooner he was done, the bird had picked up the tune and was chirping it back to John, as if asking for approval. The boy giggled, making Peeta stare quizzically, but John whistled back and the bird responded.

John and the Mockingjay kept whistling and chirping to each other, and soon a couple other mockingjays joined the first one. John added a note to his melody and the band of birds followed it seamlessly. The affair went on for a few minutes, then the first bird took flight, taking with it an intricate new song that spread through the woods like a blanket.

John was smiling brightly. Peeta realized this was the very first time he saw his friend smile, with actual mirth. Somehow, the gesture made John look even younger, more fresh faced. Peeta thought it suited the kid.

“That was… something else,” Peeta said in awe, following with his gaze the traveling cloud of singing birds flying above his head. “I didn’t know mockingjays behaved that way.”

“Boys never do.”

To John’s horror, Peeta cocked his head sideways and stared at him frowning in confusion.

“ _Boys_ _never_ _do_? What does that mean?”

John hadn’t meant to say that aloud, let alone to the boy in front of him. His cheeks turned scarlet and his gray eyes widened and darted frantically around.

“I need to use the privy!” John shot up like a daisy in spring and scurried away as fast as his short legs allowed him, but then Peeta was calling his name.

“Jack! Hey Jack Cattermole, stop!”

John froze to the ground, standing rigidly straight with his head bowed when Peeta jogged up to him.

“Here.” The older boy shoved a spade into the younger one’s stomach, and started to jog back to their sitting rock.

“Wha—?”

“You’re going to need that if you’re going to the privy. I thought you were the savvy outdoorsman of the two!” Peeta chuckled as John’s face flamed hotter with embarrassment.

 

* * *

 

After yet another grueling hour hiking in the woods, the boys decided to take their chances with the road once more, hoping the horsemen were still chasing after the smoke in the opposite direction, and actually made some decent progress.

They reached Lake Twelve and crossed it, but it was dark already when they were able to set foot on the opposite bank. They still had a few hours of walking before reaching Seamshire since John couldn’t walk all that fast thanks to his bruised heel.

The boys were fatigued, and decided to set up camp in a clearing deeper in the forest just in case.

This forest was no longer marshy, but very lush and green and full of bugs and critters. John was having the time of his life!

Peeta was a whiz with fires, coaxing a small flame from a few damped sticks and dead leaves, not that they wanted to call attention to themselves, but the night chill was getting to them And forcing their hands. Peeta’s stomach rumbled when the two sat by their small fire.

“Oh, here!” Piped up John, pulling out of the pockets of his baggy trousers the rolls filled with cheese and sliced meat Peeta had given him the day before. “Eat up.”

“You had these the whole time?” Peeta glared at John for a second before taking the piece of bread.

John shrugged. “I was hoping to set up a snare at some point, but in hindsight, that was a silly idea.” He said sinking his teeth into a roll himself. “I fed the last apple to Bessie while you were starting the fire.”

“Bessie?” Peeta asked confused.

“She needed a name.” John said gesturing to the mare with his head.

“You fed the horse my supper without asking?”

“What’s it really your supper?” John asked mildly interested.

Peeta frowned. “It was my snack. I was supposed to be at my own house, dinning in my own table by now.”

“Oh…” John’s shoulders sagged and he had the good sense of looking chagrined.

“Look, Jack, I’m very grateful you want to share your rations with me, but your home is still a travel day away. We should start gathering nuts and berries, since we’re down to our last stores. Maybe we should only eat half of this rolls?”

John lifted one shoulder. “It’s alright. The cheese won’t hold long before turning sour and moldy. But as soon as we get to Seamshire, I’ll prepare you a grand meal. You won’t go hungry there!”

Peeta was taken aback by John’s enthusiasm, but he got downright confused when he realized his friend was actually blushing furiously. To not call attention to it, he shrugged and smiled.

”I bet I’d love even pinecones sprinkled with salt if it’s served hot and on a plate.”

Both boys laughed. 

“So… a snare?” Peeta asked curiously. “Are you any good at trapping?”

John shrugged noncommittal. “I’m alright. I’m slightly better at shooting a bow. But I can hunt, trap and fish if the need arises.”

“Impressive.” Said Peeta with a nod of approval. “I’m very good with knives and swords. I can handle a spear as well. But I’ve never handled a bow and arrows. I’d like to see your skills sometime.”

“Sure.” John agreed, blushing once more.

After a long stretch of silence, John spoke. “Sorry you’re out in the forest with me, when you could’ve been home resting by now.” He offered the last roll to Peeta.

“It’s alright, Jack. I enjoy a night out under the starts with a pal.”

John studied Peeta for a moment. “Thank you, Peeta. You’re truly sweet.”

“Jack…” Peeta groaned, “Could you, perhaps be _manlier_?” His blue eyes pleaded with his friend, who just huffed annoyedly.

“And, pray, tell me. How do you propose I’d be _manlier_ exactly?”

“I don’t know…” Peeta groused. Then scratching the back of his neck he offered, “Spit? Cuss every now and then, maybe? Uh, call me ‘man’, ‘comrade’, ‘pal’?” 

John rolled his eyes. “That’s so silly!”

“Well, it’ll cancel out how it weirds me out when you call me ‘sweet’... that’s just sissy stuff.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Peeta nodded. “Alright then.”

They sat in silence, eating their share and drinking what little water they had in the one skin Peeta had on him. And after a while, John couldn’t help himself.

“Sweet Peeta?”

“Just Peeta” He snorted.

“ _Petty_ Peeta… better?”

“Loads!”

“Never mind!” John mumbled annoyedly, toeing the dirt below his bare feet.

“Jack… Come on. Ask me your question.” Peeta prompted.

After considering his friend’s honesty, John asked, “Mmm, what do you sketch about?”

“I’m not sure. Whatever strikes my fancy I guess.”

“Do you make portraits of people? Would you sketch your bride?” John’s cheeks turned pink and his eyes darted away.

“I don’t know. Maybe if she’s pleasing to look at, I guess.”

“Oh? And what do you consider _pleasing_?” John arched a doubtful eyebrow.

“I’m not sure.” Peeta shrugged. “I guess, cleaned and free of rouge. That stuff is the worse.”

“Ugh! Tell me about it!”

The both chuckled together for a moment, and when they fell into another quiet lapse, John continued timidly.

“Does it bother you? That you know nothing of what she looks like, who she is or what kind of personality she has, yet you’re betrothed to her?”

Peeta snapped. “Who cares!? All girls are the same, vapid and superfluous.”

“Well, Katniss is not.” Said John surprisingly diplomatic, despite the knot in his throat.

“How do you even know that?” Peeta demanded staring at his friend suspiciously.

“Because I am—“ John clamped his mouth shut, and after a moment of consideration, he opted for a stubborn answer “I just know, alright?!”

Peeta’s jaw clenched and he just sat there staring at the dwindling embers of their long gone fire. After a few minutes of stewing with arms crossed, he asked nonchalantly.

“So… is she?” His blue eyes that reflected the waving of the embers flit back and forth between his friend and a stick he was using as poker, “Pleasant to look at?” He elaborated with a hand gesture. “Is she you know. _Pretty_?”

“Who?”

“Katniss!” Peeta threw his hands in the air. “My fiancée.”

“Oh… um… I think she is probably considered, _maybe—_ I’m not sure if she is considered a _looker_ , but her sister’s face is as fresh as rain drop. It’s too bad they look nothing alike! I guess, if you want to be objective… what _is_ ‘pretty’? Right?”

“Sorry I asked!” Peeta shook his head breathing in deeply. “Judging by your flopping, she must be hideous”

“She’s not hideous! She’s a very handsome lady!” John huffed and puffed aggravated.

“You just said— Never mind! Forget it.”

There was a long pause in which both teens busied themselves with preparations for bedtime. Then suddenly, Peeta sat back down heavily, and blushed.

“So. Is she… you know?” He pinched the front of his vest between his thumbs and index fingers, pulling the material forward.

“What?” Confuses, John made a face, not catching the meaning of Peeta’s strange motions.

“ _Tits_.” Peeta whispered. “Does she have nice tits?” He asked almost embarrassed.

John turned scarlet from head to toe and sputtered his answered, subconsciously clutching the front of his own shirt, while his eyes went everywhere but to Peeta’s. “Why would you ask such a question?!”

Sucking in air, Peeta responded, “Because Lord Thread said that boys normally enjoy well developed breasts, and I was wondering if he was basing his statement on my future wife’s physique?”

“Oh, so you’ll judge miss Katniss based on the size of her chest?” John accused.

“Well, yes… no. I don’t know.” Peeta started tossing pebbles into the darkness beyond. “I mean. I-I’ve touch breasts before, and it wasn’t anything to write home about—”

“What?!” John practically screeched looking positively murderous. “You touched some other girl’s breasts? How could you? Who’s? Why?”

“It doesn’t matter who’s or why. It’s done and I wasn’t impressed. It’s not a big deal.” Peeta scoffed.

“Not a big deal? So you’d be alright with another boy touching Katniss’ bosoms? Or her, touching another boy’s p-parts?”

“What kind of question is that? I don’t know Katniss, she can do whatever she wants.”

“She’s your wife!” John growled balling up his fists. “How can you be so… so—“

“She’s not my wife yet! What is it to you what I think or do about this whole issue? You know what, Jack? This conversation is stupid!” Peeta declared visibly upset. “Once I’m married to the woman I’ll probably do more than touching her breasts. It won’t matter if anyone before me ever had the pleasure of touching her, because I’ll be her last, and she’ll be mine. She’ll carry and deliver my babies, and she’ll feed said babies with her breasts, that I’d probably touched a hundred times by then. Because at the end of the day, we’re talking about my hypothetical children’s food storage.”

John’s face was so red and his eyes so wide and stunned, Peeta actually started to feel worried for his friend’s health. It seemed the boy wasn’t even breathing and was starting to turn purple.

Peeta slapped John in the back and finally, the latter coughed up the word lodged in his throat.

“ _Babies_?” John resumed breathing harshly. “You want—  _expect—_  babies?” John’s voice was thin and scratchy.

“That’s part of marriage, isn’t it?” Peeta shrugged feeling a little self conscious. “I’m not sure one can avoid children forever.”

“I suppose.” John sighed, rubbing his chest slowly, as if to coax his heart into calming down. “Just… don’t have babies right away, will you? Miss Katniss is only 16 after all.”

“How do you know so much about her?” Peeta asked curiously. “Do you know her personally?”

John swallowed thickly, then gave a noncommittal shrug, “Technically, I know her better than anybody else.” He said stretching the collar of his shirt, though his neck wasn’t even near constricted by it.

Peeta regarded his friend through narrowed eyes, frowning his brow. “Are you sweet on her or something?”

John made a double take, and shook his head to rid himself of his surprise. He sputtered flabbergasted, “Wha— are you insane? Why would you even think that? It’s ridiculous! You have— No! Preposterous question!” John’s countenance was as appalled as his voice, his arms flailing around madly.

“Aye! Fine! Alright! You are not sweet on Miss Katniss! Calm yourself down, will you?” Peeta raised his hands in a placating manner. “You don’t have to get all offended.”

“But you just accused me of harboring feelings towards mys—“ John stopped abruptly, looking pale.

Peeta looked at John inquisitively dragging the word out, “Your...?”

John snapped his mouth shut for a moment, and then said very diplomatically, “Kin.”

“Your kin? As in your familiar relation?” Peeta tried to clarified.

John made a noise at the back of his throat, while his eyes darted everywhere nervously. “Familiar enough, yes.” He said curtly.

“Well, you should have started there, my friend. I was afraid I would have to resort to dueling you or something silly like that to defend my bride’s honor, or shit.”

John’s eyes widened. “You would duel someone over a bride you’ve never met?”

“Of course. It’s my duty to stand up for my lady. Even if I’ve never met her.”

John nodded, visibly in awe. “On behalf of Katniss. Thank you, I guess.”

Peeta shrugged. “Although. She could be a horrid person that deserves no defending. Girls can be…” he grimaced without elaborating.

“Oh, I can attest to the fact, Katniss is not horrid. Maybe a bit strict and finicky, but polite and… polite.”

“You said polite twice.”

“Well, she’s _so_  polite it deserves to mentioned twice!” He snapped. “I don’t know how else to describe her. She’s… she’s had a few trying years. Give her a break!”

“Jack, I didn’t say anything about her.”

“Well. Then we should stop talking about Katniss Everdeen.”

Peeta agreed by making a face and waving his friend off dismissively. “Mmm, I know from you all I need to know about Katniss Everdeen. Two years my junior, heiress of land, coin, and maybe a coal mine?” He shook his head derisively. “Sister, mother, dead father and Lord Thread wants to kidnap her for her inheritance?” Peeta looked at John, a question in his eyes.

John grimaced and nodded. “Sounds like a trend with your guardian.”

Both boys sat there scoffing their toes on the lose soil. But after a while, Peeta asked quietly.

“Is that why Thread took you against your will?” Both boys looked at each other. “For your wealth?” But before John could speak, Peeta pressed, “Were you leverage? to pressure Katniss into a marriage with me?” Peeta sounded small and fearful.

John averted his eyes at the same time nodding his head sadly. “You can say that’s correct. And I’m sorry.” He then looked up, and placed a soft, tiny hand on his friend’s forearm, squeezing lightly. “She’s heard nothing but good things of you, though. I think it’s safe to say, she likes what she’s heard and she’s not opposed to… exploring a romantic future with you?”

“Thanks, Jack. But you don’t have to lie to me. There’s no way you can know all that if you’ve been cut off your family for days.”

John’s face fell. “Still. You’re a good man, and I know for a fact, she admires goodness in people.”

The conversation died down after that. The teenagers sat staring at the darken embers mutely, until John grunted to himself rubbing his hands on the grass with a wrinkled nose.

“I feel so gross. I wish I could take a bath to rid myself of this grime.”

Peeta laughed. “There’s a pond somewhere around here. We can go swimming in the morning if you still want to clean up then.”

John’s eyes bulged out of his skull for a second, and started to cough. Peeta patted him on the back until John waved him away.

“I’m fine!” He gasped. “I can hold off on that bath until I’m home.”

“Suit yourself, Jack.” Peeta shrugged.

After an awkward moment or two, John yawned.

“I guess is bedtime?” Peeta chuckled.

John stopped yawning and just nodded.

“Here!” Peeta stood to rummage through the bag of his saddle until he produced two blankets. He tossed one to a very grateful John, and sat next to his friend to settle in for the night.

“Mmm… are you alright, sleeping this close?” Asked John whose eyes stared in alarm.

“It’ll help preserve body heat.” Peeta explained shaking out his blanket.

“Body heat. Right.” John’s response was breathy and shaky.

Then it was Peeta’s turn to question his pal. “Are you sleeping in your cap?” He pointed at the strangely puffed out headwear.

“Lice!” John practically shouted. “Head lice. Terrible infestation. Don’t want you to catch it!” The boy’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“Oh? Noted.” Peeta moved his makeshift bed a few inches away from John’s, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d never seen Jack remove the hat off his head since the previous day at Thread’s. “You should take care of that, Jack. Parasites are gross.”

John dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and nodded. His voice was painfully awkward, “Yes. Working on it.”

“You’re a strange kid, Jack. You know that, right?” Peeta yawned, burrowing down into his blanket. “Good company, but strange.”

“You don’t know the half of it, my sweet Peeta.”


	4. “Jack-niss” Everdeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Some canon typical violence and a few kill shots, so mind the tags.

John woke up tucked into Peeta’s side, one of his hands resting on the older boy’s stomach.

The teenagers had fallen into a deep sleep and seemingly shifted closer during the night.

With a jolt of embarrassment, John retrieved his hand and slowly peeled himself off his companion’s side, begging the heavens the other wouldn’t wake up and find himself into a semi embrace with another boy. Something told John, Peeta wouldn’t take the discovery very well.

John took the spade from the saddle bag, patted the horse on the neck and headed a few yards away from their improvised camp. On his way back, he found Peeta stretching and scratching his belly. His hand then climbed to his face to scratch his chin. There was a light stubble covering Peeta’s jaw and John’s cheeks heated up just looking at him.

There was a slight fluttering in the stomach John tried to ignore. It was no use. Peeta was really handsome.

Before the older boy could notice anything was amiss, John dumped a ratty looking handkerchief full of berries in the middle of the ground.

“There’s a bush yonder.” He said as explanation dropping cross legged on the hard ground, ready to eat.

Peeta nodded, “Thanks for breakfast, pal. That is mighty thoughtful of you.” And with that, he stood and walked maybe 5 feet to a nearby tree, and without another word undid the fastenings of his trousers and pulled his manhood to relieve his bladder.

“Peeta! What the hell?” John covered his face with both hands.

“What?” Peeta called over his shoulder, giving himself a shake to dislodge any wayward droplets of urine left behind.

When John didn’t answer, he turned around already fixing his pants in place. “Are you seriously covering your eyes?” He called out.

“Yes! You’d do well to exercise modesty!” Snapped John still shying away.

“I don’t care if you see me.”

“I do!”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Is not like the appendage would be an alien sight to you.”

“I— just don’t do it again, alright?” John whined covering his eyes.

“Honestly! Are you one of those people uncomfortable with bodily functions?”

“Ugh! Just stop!” John finally groaned ripping his hand off his eyes.

Peeta was shaking with laughter. “Alright. I’ll stop! You are funny, Jack.”

“And you give male population a bad representation.”

“Hardly!” Peeta continued laughing, but the two travelers had lowered their guard, stayed too closed to the road and ignored the noises that came from its direction.

A voice, deep and dark reached the teen’s ears chilling them to the bone.

“What do we have here? Isn’t this sweet, boy’s? Peety dearest has been aiding and abetting a fugitive! Won’t this be a great story to tell his grandchildren when he is old and pruny?”

Peeta recognized the wheezy laugh of Marvel St. Charles. One of Thread’s lackeys who Peeta had never seen eye to eye with.

The two men flanking Marvel chuckled mockingly.

“That is, providing he reaches adulthood,” more laughter from the newcomers.

“By the looks of it, he may be sabotaging himself by crossing his guardian!” Said one of Marvel’s men.

The other one responded with a “Hear, hear!”

“Oh, but you see… Peeta dearest can never do any wrong in the eyes of Lord Thread. But now that we have proof of how easily, cherubic Peety, can turn his back on his guardian, Sir Thread will finally open his eyes and see what a big joke Peeta Mellark really is!” Said Marvel with venomous relish.

“What do you want St. Charles?” Peeta demanded.

“Please! As if you don’t know that every man under Lord Thread’s service is after that urchin you’re protecting.”

By now, John had hidden behind Peeta’s larger frame, but it was no use. In an instant, he was yanked away like a rag doll.

“Peeta!”

“Hey! Leave the kid alone!” Peeta screamed at the same time that John squealed his name in terror.

But Peeta got pinned to the ground with a heavy knee to his back.

John kicked and scratched at his captors when he realized Peeta was being held down.

“You can stop the charade, Mellark. Everybody already knows _who_ John Cattermole really is. There’s no reason to keep playing coy.” Marvel laughed again.

“Peeta, no—“ John was gagged, and bound, and heaved onto Bessie before he could plead with his friend.

“What are you talking about, St. Charles? You are making zero sense!” Shouted Peeta as bravely as he could in his position. “Unhand me this instant, and let us both go!”

“Oh… I cannot do that. I have orders to bring this wild filly back to Lord Thread.” Said Marvel patting a hand on Bessie’s saddle, right besides John’s leg.

“And you my friend, made a terrible mistake. But to be honest, I’m so happy it’s me delivering golden boy, Peeta, to Thread. I want to see the disappointment on his face when he realizes his favorite child has betrayed him. And to think that she could’ve been all yours if you had just hold off three more days.” Marvel cackled, staring at John, who cried out for Peeta not to listen. “Hell, if I wasn’t married already, I’d volunteer to take the headache out of Thread’s hands myself! But all the luck has always smiled on you, stupid bastard. Until today!” Marvel spat almost on Peeta’s face.

Meanwhile, Peeta was thoroughly confused. Why go to all this trouble for a mare he had no need for and would have returned anyway? Unless Marvel St. Charles was talking about something completely different and he just hadn’t been clued in yet.

With sinking suspicion, he looked at John and asked with trepidation.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

John shook his head, tears welling up his eyes. But being gagged, he could only mumble words that vaguely sounded like “Don’t listen to them.”

“Oh no!” Marvel feigned surprise. “You really do not know, do you? This is more delicious than I thought! Come boys, let’s bring our guests back to Lord Thread, and have a front row seat to the big reveal!”

A burly man from Marvel’s crew, pulled Peeta up forcefully, and clubbed him on the back of the head when the young man tried to turn and fight. Peeta found three drawn swords pointing to his body at different angles, while John screamed hysterically atop his mount, gagged.

Peeta went quietly after, if just to help his friend relax.

They backtracked for over an hour. Marvel hummed uplifting ditties, yet the two boys felt nothing but gloomy.

Suddenly, a low whistling dagger, much like the one that killed Cray, zoomed past Marvel. The sharp blade imbedded into the smaller of the sidekicks’ chest with a sickening thud.

The man gasped and scratched at the handle desperately, trying to pull it out, but in a matter of seconds, he bled out to death with eyes wide in surprise, staring without seeing.

Marvel looked every which way in astonishment, and then one arrow found its home into the burly brute holding John hostage. All hell broke loose.

In the middle of all the shouting and scattering, John tried running away—or so Peeta thought— but at the last minute, Peeta saw his friend stop to run his bounds to the blade one of the dead man carried. Once his hands were freed, John snatched up a bow and arrow from the corpse, and in the blink of an eye he was by Peeta’s side.

The boys huddled together; Peeta was still bound on the ground. Grabbing handfuls of his friend’s clothing, John screamed over the din of flying arrows and clashing swords.

A new group of foes had arrived.

“Come on, Peeta. We have to run!”

John managed to undo Peeta’s bindings but he would not budge. 

Peeta yanked John down, “Jack! What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. We need to go!”

Peeta finally got to his feet, but one man— Marvel’s burly companion— grabbed John by the cap pulling him to his feet. John scream in pain, thrashing his legs, trying to claw at the man’s arm. But the man only laughed and shook the boy by the hat.

Peeta lunged forward trying to tackle the brute, but the man simply swung a fist that caught Peeta right on the cheekbone. He was laid out cold with one punch.

John was crying, screaming Peeta’s name.

Groggily, Peeta opened one eye, and saw with confusion the big fellow throw his friend over his shoulder effortlessly, and the cap previously atop his friend’s head fluttered off, slowly gliding to the ground, giving way to an exuberant cascade of silky dark tresses that fell freely around John’s face.

Framed that way, John’s face did not look thin and sickly, but delicate and sweet.

In utter confusion, Peeta muttered to himself, “Jack, are you a... _girl_?” Then his head fell to the ground with a dull thud and his vision went dark.

 

* * *

  

Peeta groaned and tried to massage his temples before opening his crusty eyes, one at a time.

He came to in a tent, lying comfortably on a sleeping roll, covered by the softest wool he’d ever felt on a blanket. He was disoriented, but he stood up and ducked out of the low tent as if he’d done it countless times before.

He had to shield his eyes from the glare of the high sun to survey his surroundings. To his surprise, he was in the middle of a makeshift camp. The people milling around seemed busy and paid him no attention, until a smooth, reassuring voice behind him greeted.

“Morning, mister Mellark! Or afternoon rather. It is almost three in the afternoon if you were wondering.”

Peeta pivoted around to find a dark skinned man with close cropped hair and warm green eyes staring at him with a soft, friendly smile.

Before Peeta could ask, the man introduced himself. “The name is Cinna. You’re in Dark Daggers territory. This is my camp.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you for… rescuing me?” He tried to be polite, but felt the need to ask. “Unless I’m your prisoner, that is. Then, I’ll have to ask how to solve this impasse, since I’m starting to question my allegiance with the Threads?”

Cinna laughed. Not unkindly. “The answer to your question depends on you, master Mellark. As far as your guardian is concerned, though, I’m afraid you’ve been captured by the Daggers, not rescued. But to me, those are just simple semantics. Please follow me.”

Cinna walked past Peeta, leaving him to ponder his next move. After a moment of hesitation, Peeta jogged to catch up to the man.

“So, I’m welcome to stay or leave, as I see fit?” Peeta asked no trying to be too pushy.

“Smart man, with clever questions. It’s only a matter of how you spin things to your advantage.” Cinna stood near a beam holding a line of dead animals presumably for eating. “Some us, just have a more curvier spin than others.” The man tilted his head toward a group of young men, admiring something in the distance. “You, my dear fellow, have more than a spin. Yours is, perhaps a twist.” Not so subtly, Cinna signal for Peeta to join the other youngsters. “Find your answer, master Mellark. Then join me for supper.” 

The group of men collectively drew a breath and after a moment, gave a round of cheers.

For reasons Peeta couldn’t explain, he felt drawn to the crowd, so he made his way there mindlessly.

He was confronted by an unbelievable sight: A slight waif of a boy— in better fitting clothes than the last time he saw him— pulled the string of a bow, aimed his arrow into a tall tree, and let it fly to the same reaction from his audience than a moment earlier. A squirrel fell to the ground, speared right through the eye by the boy’s proyectile. 

One young man in the crowd, not much older than Peeta himself, sighed. “She gets them in the eye every single time!” The fellow smiled dreamily.

Another one commented, “I’m not fond of squirrel meat, but I’d would gladly eat each one of them for the rest of my life, if she hunted and fed them to me.”

Peeta gave the boys around him a death glare before breaking away from the throng of slobbering teens and young men, he stomped towards the archer with clenched fists.

“Jack!” He called loudly, ignoring the buzzing of male voices behind him.

John, who was setting up to shoot another arrow at the tree, dropped his bow, clumsily, startled by Peeta’s question. He stood stiffly with his spine very straight, while his wide gray eyes shifted between joy and fear at seeing his friend again.

“What. The hell. Is going. On?” Peeta demanded, grabbing John’s bicep securely, but not squeezing. He lead his friend away from the tree to loud complaints from the onlookers.

”Hey! No fair! Let us enjoy the view!” Some impudent teen called out to Peeta.

“Stop ogling my girl!” Peeta shouted in the direction of the mob.

John’s muscles twitched in Peeta’s grasp. He blushed violently, yet, there was no argument disputing Peeta’s statement. In fact, there was a slight but pleased curl in the corner of John’s lips.

The crowd slowly dissipated with much disappointed mumbling and groaning, just as Peeta reached another tree, with a fatter trunk to hide behind.

“What’s going on here?” Peeta asked again, pointedly.

“I saved your ass. You’re welcome.” John snapped, snatching her arm away from Peeta to cross it above her chest. A decidedly, very Jack thing to do in Peeta’s eyes.

“I— no… what?!” Peeta shook his head to rid himself of the confusion, then took her arm again and exerted just enough pressure to show her he wasn’t playing games anymore. “Language young lady!”

“What? You told me I should _cuss_ more often! I’m just doing as you said!”

“No, Jack! Just don’t. You lied to me, Jack, and I want answers. Truthful answers. I want you to start by telling me who you are, the real you!”

John glared at Peeta, but almost immediately sank against the tree trunk with a sigh. “My name is Katniss Everdeen.” As her lips formed her name, she reached up to pull the cap off her head. A long, thick braid uncoiled out to hang over her shoulder.

Peeta’s eyes followed the rope of shiny black hair mesmerized, letting go of her arm to brace himself with a hand on the trunk, just above her head, lets his wobbly knees gave out on him right then and there.

Katniss continued talking, a little shyly. “I’m sixteen years old, I have a little sister named Primrose I’m desperately trying to get home to, and besides from the name Romulus Thread gave me to hide my real identity, and the fact that I’m actually _a girl_ , I’ve never lied to you… _sweet_ Peeta. Not once.” Her hand rose, her fingers ghosted along Peeta’s chin, before dropping back to her side.

Peeta’s jaw tightened. He took a very deep, albeit shaky breath, and then stared right into Katniss’ gray eyes. “You also said you were alright with a bow, which is clearly another lie, Jack.” He smirked then. “You got that tiny critter through the eye, and if the rest of the game hanging from the line there yonder is any indication of your skill, then I’ll say you are way better than alright.”

Katniss smiled shyly and lowered her eyes demurely to a point around Peeta’s chest. A heart beat later, her eyes found his; she smirked and asked, “Is that manlier enough for you?”

“Ugh! Not really.” He laughed stepping away a fraction, “That was back when you were a boy. Now that I know you’re a lady… let’s say, many things make perfect sense now.”

“Oh, so no more cussing? How about spitting? I’m sure girls still spit at times!”

“Alright, fine! You can be manlier. I don’t care.”

They both laughed merrily until the effect passed. Peeta cleared his throat, and took a step back from Katniss.

“Sorry about the other day in the marshes, when I flashed you my nakedness.”

Both blushed furiously.

Katniss shrugged, “Is not like I won’t see you at some point, right? Might as well get used to it?” She couldn’t hold his gaze.

Peeta shook his head regretfully.

“Jack, is what you said about Thread conspiring to marry us off… real? Not real?”

Katniss looked to the horizon, and nodded sadly. “Real.”

“And, the thing about all of my wealth being gone?” He asked almost painfully.

Again, Katniss nodded, but this time she brought her eyes to him. She hesitated a moment, but finally pulled his hand into hers and squeezed.

Releasing a shaky breath, Peeta chuckled mirthlessly. “I was hoping you’d say _not real_.”

“I still have all my wealth waiting for my husband.” Katniss offered helpfully. Her face was clean of emotion, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Peeta’s breath came in shaky. “I swore I’d deliver you to your own home.” He said staring straight into Katniss’ eyes. “When I do, I’ll ask Abernathy, your real guardian, for your hand in marriage properly. Until then, you are my most treasured friend. I vow to protect you with my life, but you have no obligation to marry me.”

“Sweet Peeta.” This time Katniss rose on the tip of her toes and kissed Peeta’s cheek, right on the bruise he’d gotten during Marvel’s raid.

Peeta winced. “Ouch!”

“Sorry!” Said Katniss hastily.

“No. It’s alright. It just caught me off guard... the pain.” He rubbed his tender flesh lightly. “We match now!” He chuckled, pointing a finger at the spot Thread had slapped Katniss a couple of days earlier. There was a faint scar on her cheekbone, remaining from the small cut Thread left behind, but the bruise was mostly gone.

Then something went off in Peeta’s mind, causing him to frown. “I hated that he did that to you then. But now, my innards boil with the memory, and I don’t know what I’d do if I had him in front of me, Jack.” He said, his voice hard and cold. “I’m going to make him pay for it.”

Katniss smiled sadly and squeezed his hand again. “Don’t you worry about that awful man. The Daggers will get him and make him pay for all the evil he’s done. Including what he did to your family.”

“My family?” Peeta asked startled.

“Peeta,” Katniss sighed. “You need to speak to Cinna, the master of this camp. He will tell you all the Dark Daggers know about Lord Thread. He’s got a long list of sins to atone for.”

“And my family is one of them sins?”

“I’m afraid they are.”

“Then lead me to Cinna. I wish to learn everything he knows about my so called benefactor.”

 

* * *

 

Cinna and two of his comrades sat at a shaky table, each drinking ale from wooden mugs while Peeta nursed his own beverage dejectedly on the opposite side, staring at nothing, running a nail down a crack in the wood of the mug he cradled in his hands.

Finally, the young man’s blue eyes focused onto his new acquaintances and there was determination in his gaze.

“Anything else?” He asked with a strength in his voice that reflected his conviction.

“Nothing more comes to mind.” Said Cinna softly. “Lord Thread counts with the protection of the dying king Coriolanus. As long as the king lives, Thread’s lies and devious dealings will remain largely unpunished and unchallenged.”

“And about my father?” Peeta asked after a moment of meditation in which everyone drew a generous swallow of their drinks.

Cinna’s right hand woman, a shield maiden by the name of Portia, shook her head sadly. “Alas. There’s no evidence of his involvement in Sir Bran Mellark’s demise, other than he was suspiciously and too conveniently named your Guardian, after your father’s next of kin, an aunt and uncle in the butcher business, declined to take you in. It’s a known fact your aunt is barren and your uncle loved you more than anything in the world, yet they seemed to yield your care to Thread without prompting.”

“We believe your aunt and uncle were intimidated or threatened. There’s no other explanation as to why they would you up so easily.” A man named Beetee Latier interjected.

Peeta nodded and once again his eyes got lost in the grain of the wooded mug in his hands.

“What about my family’s wealth?” He asked.

“Gone. As far as we know.” Said Cinna. He gave a quick glance to Katniss who had remained quiet the whole time, simply seated next to her friend for moral support. “That’s where Miss Everdeen comes in. Since Lady Everdeen is still alive, albeit mentally unsound, miss Katniss and her sister, Primrose, need husbands to access their inheritances.”

“And while Katniss is still under eighteen, Thread can manage her finances above me.” Peeta said bitterly.

“Exactly.” Agreed Beetee.

Peeta turned to Katniss frowning. “I won’t do it. I won’t marry you just so that greedy bastard steals all of your parents legacy. I will protect you. I will deliver you to your home and family, and I will wait until you’re of age to even approach your true guardian with my romantic intentions.”

Katniss had to avert her eyes at the intensity in Peeta’s gaze. Her cheeks took a rosy color with the heat of his words. She only gave a curt nod, before squeaking a quick “Thank you.”

After a moment passed, and she felt her voice return to her, she spoke again, mostly just so Peeta could hear her.

“You’re an honorable man, Sweet Peeta. I’ll be waiting for that day with bated breath.”

Peeta smiled fondly at her. 

One thing was sure, Peeta’s opinions on girls were changing drastically the longer he looked at his friend... or maybe it was just _her_ that was different? Either way, suddenly, marriage didn’t seem so bad.

 

* * *

 

Katniss stood very still between two thin trees with her loaded bow at the ready. She had seen a buck and couldn’t stop daydreaming of feasting on venison that evening, so she went into the woods to track it.

Peeta was awed at how easy Katniss made hunting look. The grace and poise she walked with, almost like floating on air while her footfalls made close to no sound at all, where just otherworldly. Now that his eyes had been peeled off the blinds covering them, he saw her, Katniss Everdeen, clearly, for the masterpiece she was.

After all the painful truths about his life he’d learn that day, Peeta needed the distraction of tagging along with his new best friend while she hunted supper. It only served him to feel himself fall in love with the girl inch by scowling inch.

Peeta was the first to admit he was terrible at hunting with a bow, but he could still skinned game like a proper butcher.

The irony of his stolen life was not lost on him, but watching Katniss ready to shoot, made it all seem somewhat worth it. A thought crossed his mind, if his family had survived, Peeta doubted him and Katniss would’ve crossed paths, with them living so far from each other and running in different social circles. If not for Thread’s treachery, Peeta would’ve been deprived the extraordinary maiden Katniss Everdeen was. 

Peeta had been truthful when he told John Cattermole he noticed every girl in the region but not one of them had made an impression on him. In the very short time he had known John— Katniss— he discovered she was possibly the single most interesting person he’d ever met, and he wanted to know everything about her. Hunting just gave him the chance to spend hours on end with her, in which he could ask her any number of questions about herself. 

The eight point buck meandered in front of Katniss, who was mildly distracted by Peeta’s whispered conversation, but she still managed to get the deer with a single arrow through the heart. The young friends hugged each other and bounced up and down in a most girlishly fashion. After their effusive celebration, the teens worked in tandem to field dress the kill, and by then, Peeta had compiled another list of things to ask Katniss.

“Can I ask you something?” He started making a swift tear on the belly of the deer, pulling back some of the pelt to make a deeper cut into the flesh.

“Sure,” Katniss accepted, working loose the feathers of a wild turkey she’d gotten earlier. Peeta noticed she’d been saving the darker feathers for fledging. 

“You said you saved my ass. The last thing I remember from last night, that _orangutan_ , Brutus I think he’s called, had picked you up like a sack of cotton and heaved you over his shoulder. How did you escape him? He’s not all that bright, but he’s twice as big as me… and according to you, I’m built like an Ox.” Peeta smirked.

Katniss rolled her eyes, but the flush coloring her cheeks told him she was affected by the reminder of her own words.

“And you won’t ever forget I said that.” She mock lamented.

“Never!” He assured her slyly.

“That is just… the worst.” She muttered under her breath smiling wryly at him. “Well, it's a very simple story. Brutus, the orangutan, was carrying me away after leaving you unconscious. Right then, Cinna’s reinforcements arrived, and someone got my captor on the knee. He went down like a dead log. I rolled out of his claws and landed at Cinna’s feet.

“Cinna tried to helped me up, but he had to wait to reason with me until I’d calmed down and wasn’t trying to scratch his eyes out. Once I was sure he wasn’t another foe, we set out to look for you.” Katniss trailed off, but eventually admitted while avoiding Peeta’s eyes, “I kept screaming your name when Cinna found me. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. I was so scared I’d lost the _Boy_ _with_ _the_ _Bread_. I was almost hysterical, so Cinna promised me we would look for you if I calmed down.”

Peeta tilted his head at that “Boy with the bread” part, figuring it had to be him, but filed the thought away for a later question. Katniss wasn’t done giving her account.

“We came across Marvel. The weasel had been slitting up wounded people’s throats, and to my horror he was hovering over your unconscious body. He had this murderous shine in his eye, like he was fantasizing about killing—“ she choked down a sob. “I’m not sure how exactly I did it, but I lifted a bow out of a dead Dark Dagger, and the next thing I remember, Marvel laid on top of you… bleeding from his eye socket, were my arrow protruded like a flag pole.”

Katniss whimpered. “I’ve never killed a person before.” She was full on crying. “It’s awful. I’m awful. I’m evil.”

“No!” Peeta cooed taking his distressed friend into his strong arms, and for the first time since her father died, Katniss  felt safe, loved and treasured. “Hush, Jack. You did what you had to do in the worst situation a human being can be put in.”

Peeta caressed Katniss’ hair, massaging her skull and then rubbing soothing circles on her back until her sobbing subsided. He didn’t loosen his grip on her, until she pulled away to breathe.

Then gently, he took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “You did save my ass. Thank you, Ja— Katniss. Nobody has ever done that for me. No one has considered I mattered enough to be saved. I’m sorry you had to do and witnessed such violence.” He took her in his arms again, and she gladly allowed her body to meld to his. “I vow to protect you with my life, always. I’ll do anything in my power to keep you safe.”

They had been embracing for just a short while, but he felt the prickly sensation that something was wrong starting to descend as a shiver down his spine. He tightened his arms around Katniss’ lithe body, and then she was aware something was amiss.

She leaned away from his solid chest and peered into his eyes. “Do you think the forest has gone too silent suddenly?” She whispered.

Peeta nodded slowly. “Unnaturally so. Grab your weapon. You run towards camp when I give you the signal. Alert the men there, and for heaven’s sakes, don’t look back no matter if you can’t hear me. Understand?”

“Peeta—“

“Understand?!” Peeta demanded.

Katniss lean up to kiss his lips, but he held her face in both his large hands and kissed her nose instead.

“Not until I’ve gotten Abernathy’s blessing. Now go!” He pushed her away by her shoulders and armed himself with a spear he had been carrying around since leaving camp.

It was too late.

They were surrounded by Thread’s men, and all of the Daggers hunting party, laid lifeless here and there. Katniss loaded her bow and Peeta yelled in his most authoritative voice, “Let the lady go!” But no one move.

Peeta recognized many of the faces of the men surrounding them. He was not sure what had been said to them about him, but the empty expressions and complete disregard of his direct command, told him this men were no friends of his.

“Jack, I hate to ask this of you. But you’ll have to let it fly in a moment. I want you to reload as fast as you can and shoot again, until you’ve made yourself a path. Katniss… shoot straight.“

Katniss did just that. She shot arrow after arrow, as fast as her nimble fingers could reach them and set them ready. She was tempted to look back, seeking Peeta, but the boy was clever and kept shouting directions for her to keep going, reassuring her all the way back to camp.

At camp things weren’t much different. There were Daggers and Thread loyals fighting viciously to the death. Nobody tried to take prisoners on that battle, not one of them was concerned with the spilt blood and the loss of life. Peeta saw men he’d known since young, and he could not believe the savagery they were capable of. Then again, the Dark Daggers threw the first punch by killing Friar Cray, Lord Thread’s forces were only responding to the threat.

In a most uncharacteristic fashion, Lord Thread himself strolled into the Dark Daggers’ camp, atop a war stallion, setting fires to tents as he went. Romulus Thread was notoriously underactive when it came to matters of conflicts, allowing his subordinates to deal with uprisings and disputes. He was a lax leader, citing dislike for violence and confrontation.

“What do we have here?” Thread said cocking his head. “Why if it isn’t my favorite son and my new ward.”

“I’m not your son… my Lord.” Peeta responded curtly pushing Katniss behind his back.

Thread made a face, both of surprise and amusement. “I see that little rebel got to your head, m’boy. See folks? This is exactly why I’ve always said that any man will do anything when a nice firm bosom is involved.”

All the men surrounding them chuckled while some made some suggestive motions. Peeta’s jaw clenched as he felt Katniss press herself closer to his back.

“Leave Miss Everdeen out of this, my Lord, please. She’s innocent and deserves to go home to her fami—“

“You’re her family now!” Boomed Thread angrily. “Am I to think you’ve betrayed me, boy, by aiding this girl? After all I have done for you, Peeta? I took you in as a if you were my own flesh and blood.”

“You killed my family and threatened my only kin to keep my wealth for yourself!”

In the blink of an eye, Peeta lunged forward looking to strangle his old guardian, but Thread, being wiser by age and better armed, had the young man restrained, pinned to a tree with a sword to the neck.

“No! Peeta!” Katniss shrieked aiming her loaded bow in all directions as Thread’s men closed in. She was fast and accurate, but the sheer number of minions would eat up her cache of arrows without really keeping them at bay.

“Awe! But look how sweet you too are! I was right. You children only needed to meet and hormones would’ve taken over once you spent time together overnight.”

Thread wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I hope for your sake, Peeta, you were a gentleman with dear miss Katniss. I can’t offer her off in marriage to any man of worth if you defiled her.” His voice was cold and calculating.

Katniss screamed offended, “What do you mean offer me off?! You said I was to marry Peeta!”

Peeta tried to throw Thread’s hold off of himself, while wheezing out his own outraged. “She’s not yours to offer in marriage, my Lord! Plus she’s already been promised to me!”

“Oh, but you’re wrong! Both of you.” Thread sat back on his saddle. “You see, Miss Everdeen is a very popular maiden. The list of powerful and wealthy suitors seeking her hand in marriage is astronomical. But that fool, Sir Abernathy, keeps squandering her beauty and appeal by keeping her away. He won’t hear of any offers until her 18th birthday, and that’s just sad, because by then, so many of the more advantageous matches will be unavailable.

“That is why I saw my chance to free the maiden, and in exchange for her liberation from Abernathy’s obtuse rule, I reserve the right to seek the best offer. So far I’ve gotten two Dukes interested, and even King Coriolanus’ most beloved nephew who would certainly be a very prestigious alliance for myself.”

Rubbing his chin, Thread shook his head in regret. “I must confess, Peeta, m’boy, you're my only weakness. I’ve truly come to love you like a son, so I decided to give you the coveted prize, but imagine my shock and disappointment upon hearing you’ve run off with Miss Everdeen before I’ve even had a chance to present her to you, and then, you killed my most trusted warrior, Marvel St. Charles! So, since you decided to betray my benevolence, I feel no guilt in proceeding with more conveniently financial deals, when it comes to miss Everdeen’s nuptials.”

“Katniss is still. Not. Yours. To marry off!” Peeta struggled against his captor, but ten other weapons got aim at him.

“Stop!” Katniss cried out. “Let him go!” She demanded her eyes looked crazed and ready to fall of their orbits. “Stop this instant and there will be no regrets!”

Thread laughed. “Miss, you are in no position to negotiate.”

Peeta’s eyes widen then, he knew how stubborn Katniss could be, and what Thread said, was just the thing that would encourage her to dig her heels in and say something stupidly brave.

“Try me!” She shouted dropping her bow to hold her arrow tip straight into her carotid.

Thread laughed again, but Peeta started thrashing under his attacker’s hold. “Katniss! Don’t be a fool! Do not do it!”

Slowly, she pressed the sharp tip of her arrow to her skin, drawing just enough blood to show Thread she wasn’t bluffing.

“Fine!” Screamed Thread turning red in the face.

“Let him go first!” She demanded again, turning the tip of the arrow so more scarlet blood smeared across her flesh. “And if I know you did anything to harm him… I swear that will be the last day my lungs will draw breath!” She yelled. “You won’t have a bargaining chip any longer!”

“Stand down men!” Thread grunted motioning with one hand and backing off Peeta. “But if you try anything, boy!” He warned.

“Katniss…” Peeta ran to her as soon as he could, holding her hands for dear life. “I’ll come for you, do not lose faith.”

“Peeta,” Katniss cried out, caressing his stubbled face tenderly. “My sweet Peeta. I’ll wait. Even if the unthinkable happens, my heart is yours.”

“And mine as well.” Peeta kissed her hands just when the men started pulling  him apart from Katniss by force.

In a desperate rush, Katniss threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, but her lips only reached the corner of his mouth before they were yanked apart.

Thread mocked. “Why look at this, boys! We have a set of star-crossed lovers in our hands!”

Mean, mocking guffaws broke all around.

When Peeta started getting agitated about Thread dragging his new found love away, someone hit him in the back of the head with a blunt object. The last thing he heard was the shrill scream of Katniss, sobbing his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is “Book One” Of this story. I’ll start posting the next part soon, and finally... Jack is out! 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and for your comments. I truly appreciate it them!
> 
> Happy Father’s Day if you’re one!

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me at tumbler @alliswell21


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